Jason falls asleep on my chest.
It's something I never thought would happen. I mean, we've cuddled after sex before, I'm not a monster. But there's something specifically intimate about him falling asleep on top of me, his beard tickling my chest as he breathes deeply.
Scared to fall asleep--scared of waking him--my mind wanders, tries to figure out what exactly we are. I'm scared of that, too, but I keep coming back to him leaning across the patio table, telling me "this is worth a shot."
Ironic that we both work to block shots.
I don't know what to think. I like Jason. More than just fucking him, I mean. I like that I can cook for him. I like that he's easy to get along with. I like that he's asleep on my chest right now.
Jason shifts. "Sorry," he mumbles. "Fell asleep on you."
"That's alright."
"It is?" He snuggles back down into me with a sigh.
"You're adorable when you're sleepy," I say.
"Hm," he replies, drifting back off.
Fuck. I like Jason. A lot.
###
I wake up before he does. He's no longer on my chest, apparently electing for a pillow instead in the middle of the night. His ass is poking outside the blanket, nude, and I want to give it a squeeze but he's so peacefully asleep that I don't dare.
Instead, I let my eyes trace over his body. He's in the best shape I've seen. No bruises. Offseason. I take a moment to notice the sporadic freckles on his shoulders, the pink creases on his skin from the sheets. He seems delicate in this light.
I extricate myself from the bedsheets and blankets without waking him. Pad out to the kitchen, look out the window. Sunrise is beginning, and the sky is getting lighter. I turn to the coffee machine.
I'm drinking my second cup and watching the palm trees blow in the breeze when Jason walks in. I don't turn around, but I know he's there. He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, kissing my shoulder.
"Well, good morning," I say.
"Morning," he says, his voice still groggy. "Woke up and you were gone."
"Coffee." I show up my cup.
He hums in approval, letting go of me and walking over the machine. He's still completely nude, I realize. The urge to squeeze a handful of his ass comes over me again.
Jason chuckles. "You're staring," he says.
"Yeah," I admit. "And?"
He turns toward me, holding his coffee cup. With his cock half-soft he looks somewhat like a statue of a Greek god.
"When do you want to go to the beach?" he asks.
"What?" I force myself to look up and meet his eyes, though I let my gaze linger up his body for longer than I intend. "Oh. Yeah. The beach. Whenever you want."
He laughs. "You a little distracted?"
"Can you blame me?" My eyes drop back to his chest, his stomach, his v line. His cock's grown a little. I set my coffee cup down on the counter, unsure of what I'm doing until I'm doing it, dropping to my knees in front of him.
Jason looks down at me with amusement. His free hand strokes the side of my face. "You look good on your knees," he says softly.
"I think I have the better view," I reply, wrapping a loose hand around the base of his cock, now fully hard. He shudders, and I take that as my cue to start sucking him.
"Fuck," he groans. "Your mouth-- fuck."
I bob my head, gradually taking more and more of him into my mouth. Until his pubes are tickling my nose and he's fully sheathed in my throat.
I stop and look up at Jason, partially hidden from my view in my eyelashes, but I see that he grins. "Can I?" he asks.
"Mhmm," I reply.
With one hand on the back of my head, he starts slowly fucking my face. His fingers twine through my hair. Through my eyelashes, I see him bite his lip, looking down at me.
"You like this?" he murmurs. "You like me using your mouth like you use me?"
Fuck. I moan an "mhmm" around him as he picks up pace, fucking me faster.
"Is this how you feel when you fuck me," he says. "Tell me I feel this good."
"Mmmmph," is the most I can manage.
"Fuck, you feel good," Jason moans, and his hand tightens its grip on my hair. "You want me to cum?"
My mouth is full of cock. "Mhmm."
"Fuck," he whispers. He buries his cock in my face, pumps hard into my mouth. I feel his orgasm before I taste it, his cock throbbing against my tongue. Then he cums down the back of my throat, whimpering quietly.
I don't move, I let him pull me off his cock. "You were asking about the beach?" I manage, spit dripping down my chin.
Jason laughs. "Fucking hell, Nick."
I finally give his ass a good squeeze. "I'm ready for the beach whenever you are."
"Get up here."
I rise from my knees, and he kisses me hard, spit and cum and all.
"Fucking hell," he says again.
###
The beach is gorgeous. White sand and turquoise water, the sun lazily climbing in the sky.
Jason carefully spreads his towel on the sand. I do the same, then pull my shirt over my head and reach for the sunscreen. I'm pale enough that I don't tan, I just burn. When I was on spring break here in college, I turned bright red.
He looks up at me while I'm rubbing the sunscreen into my arms. "You want me to get your back?"
"Yeah, actually." I drop down onto my towel and hand him the tube. "Thanks."
Cold sunscreen touches the nape of my neck, and I shudder. Jason laughs. "Sorry," he says.
"It's alright," I reply. His hands are warmer than the sunscreen, massaging the protective layer into my shoulders. He's firm but not painful, and I relax into his touch.
Too soon, he's done.
"Can you get mine?" he asks.
Right. "Yeah, of course."
Once we're both appropriately protected from the sun, Jason turns around and gives me a quick kiss. "Thanks," he says.
"I--" My ears are turning pink, I know, and it's not because of the sun. "What if--"
"We're in Aruba," he reminds me. "No one knows who we are."
I glance around the beach. People go about their days, reading books, sipping pina coladas from plastic cups. No one's recognized us. No one's even looking at us.
"Alright," I say, giving him a kiss back. "Wanna go in the ocean?"
Jason's like a big kid at the beach. Running back and forth to the ocean, getting his sandy feet all over our towels. I can't even pretend to be mad at him, because he looks so happy here. Happier than I've seen him anywhere else.
Eventually, he collapses on the towel next to mine. His hair is wet and salty. Sand and beads of water dot his sunkissed skin. He's smiling slightly, squinting at the sky, and I want to kiss the peaceful look on his face.
"What are you looking at?" he says, suddenly turning his eyes to me.
I let out an awkward laugh. "Oh, I don't know. The hot guy who came on vacation with me."
"Can I meet him?" He's grinning now.
"Maybe. If you're good."
"Oh," he says, "I'm always good."
"Every day?" I tease.
"Yes." Jason sits up on the towel, leans over so our faces are close. "Every day."
Damn it. I kiss him, lingering on his lips probably longer than appropriate on a public beach. He tastes like saltwater.
###
As we walk back from the beach that afternoon, Jason reaches for my hand. It's a strange sensation. New to me. But he's grinning the whole walk back to the rental house, and it must be infectious, because I find myself smiling too.
We track sand into the kitchen. I head to the bathroom to throw our beach towels in the wash, and he follows me in and turns on the shower. I glance over my shoulder at him as he strips off his wet t shirt, feels the water to see if it's a good temperature. A pang of something sounds in my chest. Longing, I think.
"You want to join me?" he asks, meeting my eyes.
